


Responsible Driver Required

by Emerald Embers (emeraldembers)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-05
Updated: 2010-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-10 22:59:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldembers/pseuds/Emerald%20Embers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU; if you're rich and powerful enough you can hire an angel as a bodyguard, and after a kidnapping gone wrong leads to Sam Winchester's death, Dean Winchester's father decides she needs protecting. Warning; attempted (unsuccessful) date rape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Responsible Driver Required

Dogs of Heaven was an appropriate term for angels; imprinting was part of their nature, part of how lower ranks were assigned as guardians.

Castiel had not been meant as a guardian, but since Gabriel took over Michael's duties in Heaven, he had decided to introduce angels to humans in a much more substantial way.

Guardians and bodyguards were not so different, after all.

Castiel picked through the box John Winchester had brought him - Senator Winchester, he corrected himself, despite knowing the man's real name, age, destiny, sins and virtues in a glance. Human titles seemed so pointless given their nature. No human was less transient than another. "These have all been handled by others regularly," he sighed. "This belonged to her mother, this she shared with her brother, and this -" he nudged it aside with a wince - "Is inappropriate. Does she own anything she doesn't share?"

"There's her car. No one else gets to drive that thing."

Castiel nodded. "Where is it?"

John hesitated for a moment. "I haven't used your kind before. How does this work exactly?"

Castiel normally disliked working with new customers. They needed explanations he didn't particularly have the patience to give, not when they would have had them if they'd read the booklet given to all prospective clients. That said, John was a senator and likely spent all day reading already - moreover, having recently lost his son, Dean's brother, it was understandable. "Every human has a distinct scent. We can imprint on that scent, but we can only do so once. The clearer the scent, the easier it is to keep track of that human in future."

"My wife's dead," John pointed out, glaring.

"Her scent isn't."

John was quiet another moment, then, "Is it safe for you to imprint on her directly?"

Castiel blinked. "Most people are uncomfortable with being sniffed by strangers."

"It's for her own good," John said. "Sam never listened to me but she will."

"With due respect, your son didn't get himself killed," Castiel replied, tilted his head to the side when John punched him.

John cradled his aching hand. "That skin's worth the cost. You'd best use it to protect her."

.

Given Dean's penchant for nicknames, Castiel was a little surprised that his ended up being, simply, "Cas" as opposed to anything offensive relating to their first meeting involving him sniffing her. If anything, she'd shrugged it off, more preoccupied with her grief over her brother's death than with the invasion of her privacy.

She'd been somewhat reticent at first, and it had been both pleasing and disconcerting to watch her starting to adjust to life without her brother as time passed. While she never quite left her shell behind, there were moments where her confidence was clear; she knew she was beautiful, enjoyed flirting with the men and, on rare occasions, women she met in the bars and clubs she frequented, enjoyed bringing them back to her flat and making Castiel 'sleep' on the sofa while she, in turn, slept with them.

John would have disapproved had he known, but she was careful about her identity when she brought them back, so Castiel had no issues with waiting for her to be done and keeping her secrets.

She stood at the door one night after shooing out a stranger, two beers in her hands, her dressing gown loose and a pair of cotton panties the only modest thing on her, smiled at him. "You want some?" She asked.

Castiel knew the entendre for what it was, smiled back briefly. "A beer would be nice, thank you."

She slumped down on the sofa next to him, thighs warm where they pressed up against his, not bothering to adjust her dressing gown to cover them more. "You're not bad for a stiff, Cas. Thought you'd be squealing on me to dad the first chance you got."

"There's nothing wrong with what you do," Castiel replied, honest, allowing her to clink her bottle against his before she set about drinking. Her breath was already sweet with alcohol and the last of her perfume, not yet showered away.

"Wish more people thought that," She said in turn, leaning against him. "That guy was shit in bed. You wanna help me out?"

"Yes, but I shouldn't."

She laughed, rested her head on his shoulder. "Yeah. Probably not."

Castiel let her lace her fingers with his, squeezed back. Imprinting made fondness for a client almost inevitable, but Dean was far, far less problematic than previous clients he'd had. She was smart, street-smart too, but there was something delicate about her he'd do anything to protect.

.

He never wanted a chance to prove it but when John openly voiced his support for a particular group of hot topics his private life came under close scrutiny, the tragedy of Sam's murder exploited to full and Dean's personal life becoming something less than personal.

Castiel normally kept his distance, but Dean was unsettled by the attention, the prying into her brother and mother's deaths, drank a little less carefully, tried different clubs from her usual to avoid the press. And at first it was okay.

It only needed to be wrong once, though, and Castiel took the drink out of her hand, stormed across the club's floors and smashed it into the chest of the man who'd tainted it. "I'd think very, very carefully about where you're going," Castiel snarled, eyes flaring white, clear identification of who he was and what he was capable of before shoving the man violently towards the bouncers.

Dean still appeared to be in shock, and Castiel stood at her side, waited for her to settle, not touching her for now and brushing away anyone who attempted to.

"I shouldn't -" Dean began, cutting herself off before she continued, and Castiel shook his head even if she wasn't looking to see it.

"It wasn't your fault. He was the one in the wrong."

"It was, I'm in this stupid outfit and -"

Castiel rested his hand on her shoulder, waited for her to turn to him. "If your father was mugged, would you blame him for carrying his wallet?"

Dean was quiet for a moment, sobbed once before wiping her face, smudging her mascara. "Can I just go home?"

Castiel pressed his fingers to her forehead, blinked when she pulled away.

"You can drive," Dean said. Castiel understood, led her outside, nodded to the bouncers as he left. They'd be keeping a closer eye on their guests in future. Angels didn't only guard humans one on one, and Castiel had no qualms about sending in a colleague to make sure due care was being taken.

.

Castiel carried her up the staircase when she stumbled on her heels and sobbed again, headed up to her flat and laid her out on the sofa. Taking her to bed felt wrong, and he carried her blanket out of the bedroom and spread it over her. "I should wash," Dean said, once her crying had calmed down a little. "I should wash, I'm gross and -"

Castiel stood up, walked to the bathroom and filled a glass with water, used his other hand to pick up her toothbrush, toothpaste and a pack of facial wipes.

It wasn't the most thorough brushing but at least it was something, and it would do until morning. Wiping away her makeup was easier, took two wipes courtesy of her not being able to shift the worst of it with a proper wash first, but again, it would do.

Castiel looked at her, eyes bloodshot from crying, nose red and shiny, the space under it before her lips the same, stroked his fingers gently down her cheek. "If you need anything, just ask."

Dean leaned into his touch for a moment, then away, then back again, seeming torn before finally asking, "Can I have a drink of water?"

Castiel nodded, got up and headed to the kitchen. It was a strange relief to return and find her asleep, and he pressed his lips lightly to her forehead before sitting down on the floor, waiting for her to wake up. If she had nightmares, he'd be there to wake her.

.

Keeping his distance felt impossible after that incident and she expressed no displeasure, let him walk with her to the shops for coffee and sit with her in restaurants, let him dance with her when she decided enough was enough and she was going clubbing again. She seemed surprised when his initially awkward dancing improved quickly, but he'd always been a faster learner, and it was even easier when he could sense which of the male dancers in the room were attracting appreciation and which were attracting scorn.

It was scarcely professional, but angels weren't working to human standards.

Going clubbing on occasion changed gradually, bit by bit into clubbing regularly, though he noticed her drinks had switched from open glasses to bottles, a precaution he wished she didn't feel the need to take. Clubbing regularly changed back into kissing people she took a liking to, and he figured she'd be happy bringing others back to the flat eventually, enjoyed the thought of her relaxing.

He hadn't entirely expected her to push away someone who switched from kissing to groping, even though her scent indicated she enjoyed the touches, but there was no rushing healing.

He hadn't expected _at all_ that she would push them away, walk over to him, and kiss him instead.

"I want you, Cas," Dean said. "Come back to my place."

Castiel took a breath that shook more than he ever would have expected it to. "I always do."

.

The drive home had never felt longer and he kept wondering what to say, if he should say anything, but this was Dean's territory and if he let her control it, he knew she would stop before things made her uncomfortable. Knew he could stop himself, could smell fear on her if it was there, knew the difference between the excited scent of nerves and the sharp tang of panic.

She walked him up the stairs, steady this time, and Castiel found himself hesitant for the first time at the door to her flat.

She turned to him, looked uncertain but for reasons he couldn't quite tell. "You still want this?" She asked.

Castiel understood the uncertainty then, kissed her, wrapped his arms around her and supported her weight when she took it as permission to jump into his arms. He was ten, twenty, thirty times her strength if not more, and it was easy to carry her, kick the door shut behind them, her hands reaching behind him blindly to lock it.

"Bedroom, now," she said, and he felt dizzy with the warmth of her, the permission to hold her, to smell her, the anticipation of what she was allowing him to take.

He opened the door, eased her down onto the bed, stripped off quickly before stretching out over her and holding still the second she said stop.

It wasn't a panicked stop, it was a moment of quiet stop. She wanted to look at him, and Castiel realised that even if he held his body in little regard, she appreciated it. She ran her hands over his shoulders, his chest, thumbed the mole next to his nipple before thumbing that in turn. "You're gorgeous," she said, sitting up and pulling her dress off over her head.

Castiel's breath stopped for a second at the discovery she wasn't wearing a bra, just black panties. And as much as he wanted to pause and admire her, he wanted to admire all of her, gripped the elastic around her waist and started to pull, slow, waiting for her to say stop again. She didn't, let him pull them down her legs before discarding them and stretching out over her again.

She shivered when he kissed her, her chest warm against his, her thighs warm and soft and inviting against his own. He'd meant to kiss and stroke every inch of her, meant to suck on her nipples and lick at the slick folds of her cunt, but she knew what he needed better than he did, slipped her hand down between his legs and wrapped it around his cock, pressed it up against her.

"What about condoms?" Castiel asked, hating to kill the moment, even briefly, but she pressed her free hand against his cheek.

"Have you got anything I can catch?"

"No," Castiel replied, "But if you get pregnant -"

"I'm on the pill," Dean said. "I just tell people I'm not because I don't trust them."

It wasn't an implication so much as an outright statement, and when she moved her hand from his cheek to his hip and pulled down, his breath was knocked clear out of him again, this time as much by what she had said as by the feel of her.

And she felt incredible. Castiel had seen sex over and over in Heaven, had watched it as a daily part of people's lives, but with Dean he'd craved touch, more than he had with anyone else he'd ever imprinted on; with Dean he knew it wouldn't have mattered if he'd imprinted or not, he'd still want this more than anything he'd ever wanted for himself.

Dean spread her legs to let him in deeper and Castiel understood in an instant why humans wrote about love and sex in the same breath even without religion causing them to. Sex had only been an idea of interest before, not something that appealed, not something searing and intense and desperate.

With her hands free she kept one on her own breast, pulling and twisting at an already hard nipple almost lazily, her other hand on his chest and rubbing at his own, and he knew it reduced their ability to manoeuvre when he kissed her but it was almost impossible to resist, her kisses hungrier now, biting at his lips and sucking on his tongue.

She was hot against him wherever he touched, slick too where he pushed into her with his cock or his tongue, and he felt a twinge of guilt when that heat became too much, when he felt his back tense up and his skin draw tight.

"Do it," she gasped against his ear, almost sobbed, "Do it, do it, please,"

He muffled his yell against her neck when he came but his true form wouldn't allow it, cracked the glass on her bedside table, and he could only be thankful that the loud music of the club had already numbed her hearing. He'd come before, experimented with his form, but there was nothing like this - nothing to begin to compare to it.

She pushed him away and he barely found the energy to shift at her command but he did, saw her slip her hands between her legs, rubbing at her swollen clit with one, sliding two fingers of the other up inside her, and though watching was amazing he couldn't leave her to this alone, pulled her fingers out of her to replace them with his own, shifted down a little so he could suck on her nipple as he'd wanted to before, fascinated at how it stood hard even though she was lying down, and her shuddering clenching around his fingers, her hissed groans and the way his fingers struggled to gain any purchase was indication enough when she came.

The bed was damp where her hips rested and Castiel wondered how much of a sin it would be to clean the mess using his powers; figured it wouldn't be too wicked if he only cleared the sheets.

"Cas," Dean said, breath steadying as she wrapped a hand around his and pulled him back up to lie next to her. "If you leave me over a pay check, I'll fucking kill you."

Castiel gave her an unimpressed look before kissing already kiss-bruised lips, knowing they might ache, knowing they didn't seem to mind. "If you think I could consider it, you're not as bright as I thought."

Dean squeezed his hand and grinned before snuggling into his chest. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Castiel replied, pressing a kiss to her hair before shifting a little to get comfortable on the mattress. "You're more than welcome."

John Winchester could keep his checks in future. Castiel could afford to retire for a few decades, and if he happened to keep an eye on one of his imprints - it wasn't as if that was a crime.

Even if it had been, Castiel doubted that would stop him. John would have been welcome to shoot him.

If he'd been born human, taking a bullet for Dean would still be worth it.

.

The End


End file.
